


Love Is Friendship Set on Fire

by moodwriter



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Romance, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-18
Updated: 2015-01-18
Packaged: 2018-03-08 03:20:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3193373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moodwriter/pseuds/moodwriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek has turned into a recluse after Kate almost burned down their house and killed his father in the process. Now, he’s facing a choice: forget about the oldest werewolf tradition or find someone in a week to accompany him to the moon festival where couples are celebrated and worthiness is weighed. He doesn’t have to think about it for long when Stiles crashes into his life and offers to be his pretend companion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Is Friendship Set on Fire

**Author's Note:**

>   
>  Banner by me
> 
> Title quote by Jeremy Taylor. Fic prompt by @sparklysnarkery who wanted a pretend relationship aided by Cora. And wonderful wonderful @aislinntlc did the betaing and cheerleading. This fic was a hard one to write, but I finally managed. I hope you like it. <333333

Derek sighs. He’s lying on the roof of their house, listening to the sounds of the forest. It’s a bit chilly, but that suits him fine because he needs a sharp mind for this. 

He has two choices. He can either never take part in the oldest tradition of his kind or find someone suitable in a week. A part of him wants to give up. A part of him wants to just say that he doesn’t deserve any of it. 

Another part can’t forget his mother’s face when she said that anyone would be better than one hundred years of loneliness. Werewolves are pack animals, and they need companionship.

Anyone?

Who would take him? Who would be foolish enough to fall for him? 

He was too young to go to the moon festival when he met Paige. He was too secretive when he met Kate. Now, he’s too old. Once he turns twenty-eight, he can never go back even if he finds someone to be his companion. It has to be now or never. 

Then again, he’s a total recluse. His only friends are pack members, and they are all settled. Even Isaac found a girl in college. Beacon Hills isn’t actually a metropolis. There are not that many people he doesn’t know who he could meet now. 

Cora pokes her head out of the window, startling Derek. “I knew I’d find you here... _Moping._ ” She whispers the last word ominously. 

If Derek had something within reach he’d throw it at her. 

“Mother wants to talk to you.” Cora pauses, peering at him. “Eight days until the d-day and now you’re starting to contemplate your options? You’re impossible.” She disappears, but not before shaking her head. She takes her theater studies far too seriously. 

Derek gets up, dusting his pants. He looks up at the moon and wishes he could turn back time. 

He goes looking for his mother and finds her in the kitchen, reading a book while waiting for the cookies to bake. 

“You wanted to see me?” He wonders if this is an Alpha meeting her Beta, or mother meeting her son. 

Talia smiles and gestures him to sit at the table. Then she says, “You deserve some happiness, darling.” 

Straight to the point, like always. His mother is not the subtlest person in the world because she doesn’t have to be. Her pack is strong and that has made her stronger over the years. 

Derek just glares at the table top because he can’t tell her she’s wrong. 

“I want you to come to the festival this year. You can’t miss out on it entirely just because you think you should be punished.”

Derek looks up, surprised and scared. She’s never said that. They never talk about it, not like this. He can’t help the way his heart is hammering in his chest, even though he knows she can hear it. 

“I’m not stupid, Derek. And I never blamed you. I want you to know that.”

He can’t take that. His inner world is carefully crafted. Things have their places, and words like that can easily shatter the balance. He stands, ready to flee, to run to the woods, but his mother is faster, grabbing his wrist over the table. “I don’t care how you do it, but I want you there.”

Derek stares at her long fingers and the dark red nailpolish. 

“I love you,” she says softly, and it sounds so much like forgiveness that he pulls his hand free and runs, not caring where. 

He needs to get out of the house where everyone loves him and nobody blames him. 

He runs barefoot, runs over the hills and under tree branches, runs until there’s not enough air in his lungs, and he finally has to stop. He’s in midtown, and he’s walking across the street, his mind a hazy mess, when he hears car tires screeching. Something hits him hard, and he flies through the air, landing roughly on the ground a few seconds later. 

There’s someone by his side the moment he’s aware of his surroundings again. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry. Are you hurt? Should I drive you to the hospital? Can you move? Oh my god… Please tell me I didn’t hurt you.”

Brown eyes are staring at him intently, and when Derek focuses on the face he realizes it belongs to the Sheriff’s kid. Derek tries to remember his name, but he doesn’t have the mind for that now. Besides, it was something unpronounceable if he remembers correctly. 

“How many fingers am I holding up? Did you break any bones?” The kid sounds frantic. 

“Three,” Derek whispers, and the kid looks at him for a silent second, then starts to laugh. 

“You’re okay. I’m Stiles. Hello. Sorry. I didn’t mean to crash into you. You appeared out of nowhere without a reflector so I didn’t see you at all. I’m so so sorry. My dad will kill me, but I’m happy you’re fine. Are you fine?” Stiles starts to move his hands over Derek’s body, trying to find any injuries. Derek is still too stunned to stop him. “My friend’s mom could check you out. She’s the best nurse in town, if not in the entire world. She would’ve totally been the best doctor, too, if her idiotic husband hadn’t left her years ago.” Stiles shuts up suddenly. “Sorry. I talk too much when I’m anxious. Or nervous. Or… in general.” 

Derek groans, sitting up. The healing has kicked in, and if he had any broken body parts those are now okay. 

Stiles’ hands are still resting on Derek’s chest, and now that Derek is starting to get his wits back it feels a bit weird. Stiles seems to realize at the exact same moment that he’s still touching Derek, and he quickly pulls back, failing to keep his balance. He falls on his ass, staring at Derek with huge eyes. “Sorry, I don’t usually molest people, either.”

“It’s okay.” Derek is proud of himself for using actual words that make sense. “I don’t usually appear out of nowhere in front of cars. I was… distracted.”

“Good god, you scared me.” Stiles breathes out, one arm around his knee. 

Derek sits there for a moment, staring at Stiles: his long fingers, lean frame, and upturned nose. There is a lot to take in, and Derek can’t seem to capture everything. Stiles is too fascinating. Then, because he feels like a creep, he stands, noticing that he’s still barefoot. He tries not to blush. 

“What’s your name?” Stiles asks, getting up, too, watching Derek sideways. 

“Derek.”

Stiles makes an odd sound. “Hale?”

Derek nods.

Stiles is quiet for a while, then holds out his hand. “Good to meet you, Derek Hale.”

Derek hesitates for a second, then very carefully takes Stiles’ hand. It’s warm, and the handshake is firm. If Derek forgets to breathe, it has everything to do with the weird situation, and not the way Stiles’ hand feels in his own. 

“I should… go,” Derek says without letting go of Stiles’ hand.

“Yeah, I’m supposed to cook for my dad.” Stiles looks at their hands, then Derek. “Um…”

Derek releases Stiles and takes a step back. He’s never in his life been this awkward, and he’s one awkward bunny when it comes to people. 

“Thank you for being a sport about this,” Stiles says, heading for his car, turning to look at Derek one more time. “You’re pretty awesome.”

Derek smiles helplessly, and his heart skips a beat when Stiles smiles back. 

When he gets home Mother is waiting for him, her eyes flashing red. “There are still hunters out there,” she says, looking like it was only a matter of minutes before she would’ve gone after him. 

“Sorry,” he mutters, racing up the stairs two at a time because he wants to bury his nose in his pillow and not think about Stiles. 

*

Derek is driving to work when Cora calls him. 

“What?” he barks, using the handsfree. 

“You should rent a girl. Or a boy if that’s more your--”

He hangs up. 

Cora’s bright ideas are always terrible. He doesn’t know why he even bothers answering her calls anymore. 

That night, Cora corners him in the living room, when Derek just wants to watch Doctor Who and forget about his troubles.

“Hear me out,” she says, a mad gleam in her eyes. 

He’s not sure if he could take Cora in a fight, but he wants to try. “I’m not,” he looks around to see if anyone is listening, then whispers, “renting people.”

“My coworker, Lydia Martin, knows a guy who’s in need of some extra cash because he has car troubles… Something about running over a dog.”

Derek’s face must show that he’s not happy about dead dogs because Cora looks at him and curses under her breath. “The dog’s fine. He said it walked away. Happy?”

Derek shrugs. 

“Anyway, the guy needs cash and you need a date. It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement, and Lydia said that he’s a cool kid, one of her closest friends. He’d be okay with it. He even knows about us because his best friend is a werewolf.”

“Cora.” He hopes he sounds threatening enough.

She grabs his arm, rises on tiptoes, and kisses his cheek. “Think about it.” 

Derek thinks about it before going to sleep, and at the breakfast table the next morning, and while he goes for a Saturday morning run. It’s a ridiculous idea because they could never fool wolves. Getting caught in the ruse would be a humiliation his family really doesn’t need. 

Then again, the Hale son not being able to find anyone to take to the moon festival is quite the humiliation as well. 

It could be someone he had just met, someone who was interested in him enough to want to take part in an ancient tradition. They wouldn’t have to know each other well, be mated, ready to be getting married. They could just be infatuated with each other. It would be enough. And pretending to have something like that could be possible. 

“Oh hi,” someone says as Derek runs by the person. Derek turns around, taking a few steps back, then stopping.

It’s the Sheriff’s kid. Derek blushes furiously because last night, he jerked off to images of him. He crosses his arms to hide the embarrassment. He’s such a tool with people. 

“How are you?” Stiles asks, staring at Derek’s legs as though looking for bruises. 

Derek is very aware that his shorts are not long or thick enough to hide anything. “Fine,” he says.

“Good.” Stiles smiles. “I told my dad I ran over a dog since the Jeep needs fixing.”

Derek connects the dots and blurts out: “Are you Lydia Martin’s friend?”

Stiles frowns. “How’d you… Oh my god, you! You’re a werewolf.”

Derek wants the earth to swallow him. This is stupid. Stiles is his sister’s master plan? “Um…”

“Oh my god, I can’t take your money. I can’t… Oh my god.” Stiles is staring at him with big brown eyes. “Please don’t think I offer myself to people for money.” He sounds desperate. “Lydia made it sound like fun, like I would be helping someone. I’m… so sorry.” Stiles takes a hesitant step back, then another. “This is the worst way to get to know someone,” Stiles whispers, and Derek only hears him because of the wolf. 

He does the unthinkable and reaches for the human, grabs his wrist, holds on because he can’t let Stiles go, not like this. “It’s okay. I think it was kind of you to offer your help. And you would be helping me out. The moon festival is important to born werewolves.”

“What is it anyway?” Stiles asks, his eyes on the bruising grip Derek still has on his wrist. 

“It’s a celebration that originates in Europe.” Derek loosens his hold because Stiles is not trying to run away. He actually looks curious. “It’s all about dances and rituals the elders are trying to preserve.”

“And it has something to do with couples?” 

Derek lets go of Stiles. “Well, yeah.”

“And if you don’t have someone this year you can never take part in it?” 

Derek nods.

“How much of a couple would we have to be?” There’s a tiny smile on Stiles’ lips when he looks Derek in the eyes. 

“New couples are welcome too,” he says, swallowing half the words. 

Stiles ducks his head, then turns to look at Derek again. “I’ll do it. If you want me to.”

“You’d have to wear the traditional clothes of human partners.”

“That’s fine.” Stiles grins.

“They’ll paint your skin.” Derek bites his lip, thinking about Stiles, bared. 

“I don’t care.”

“We might have to kiss at least once.” He feels a little desperate. 

Stiles holds out his hand. “I’m your man.”

Derek stares at Stiles, at his hand, and tries to think of how not to do this and why Stiles is agreeing to it. It doesn’t make sense. “I’ll fix your Jeep,” he finally says as he takes Stiles’ hand.

Stiles beams. “I knew you’d say that. A favor I can take, but not your money.”

Derek smiles back, letting go of Stiles’ hand reluctantly. 

“When do we leave, and where are we going?” 

“Next weekend, and it’s a two-hour-trip to a place called East Cape.” Derek can’t believe this is happening. He’s going to have a pretend relationship among other wolves.

“So we should meet tomorrow and figure out our story,” Stiles says, and Derek loves to watch the thought process on Stiles’ face. He’s so expressive. “We met through mutual friends. That’s already not a lie. The less we lie, the better it’ll be.” Stiles paces the road, waving his hands. “The things we noticed first: you like the way I talk too much, and I find your silence attractive and intriguing. Does that sound good to you?”

Derek nods. 

“What’s your favorite movie? And please don’t say the Notebook.”

“Star Wars,” Derek blurts out before he even thinks about it. 

“The original or...?”

Derek huffs. “Of course the original.”

Stiles stares at him for a second. “Oh yeah, we bonded over Star Wars immediately, and we agreed that Han shot first?”

Derek grins. “Naturally.”

Stiles fist pumps. “Yes. Okay… Do you like coffee?”

“If there’s enough milk.”

“Sugar?”

Derek shakes his head.

“Oh, I already like you. We’ll be drinking lots of coffee tomorrow.” Stiles is quiet for a moment, then sighs. “I need to start heading back because I promised my dad I’d be cleaning the garage with him after the run, but you, me, coffee?”

“Yes.” It’s the easiest thing Derek has ever done: saying yes to Stiles. He fears he won’t be able to say no to him at all. 

“In Marsha’s cafe at two?” Stiles is walking backwards, and when Derek nods, he waves and turns around, starting to run again. 

“Bye,” Derek yells after him, and when he gets a _bye_ back, he feels a little light-headed.

*

“How many people have you dated?” Stiles asks, and Derek groans because his personal life has been nothing but one opera-worthy tragedy after another. Stiles looks shocked. “You’re not a… virgin, are you?”

Derek hides his face in his hands. The coffee shop smells of cinnamon, cookies, and coffee beans, but it can’t hide Stiles’ cologne. He knows it’s Ralph Lauren’s Polo Blue because Stiles told him that. “No, I’m not a virgin. How’d you even think of that?”

“It’s just… People talk. You never go anywhere. But... just… It would’ve been cool if you had been.” Stiles sounds earnest. “Anyway, I’ve dated a girl and a guy. He was my college crush.”

“Two girls, one hookup.” 

Stiles grins. “Tell me more. Tell me everything.”

Derek jerks back, startled and a little afraid because he’s not one to share, not anymore and even when he was it always caused him his pride. Kate made sure of that. Then again, Stiles doesn’t seem to mind that Derek is a caveman and can’t use words properly. He seems to find it intriguing. “My first love died, second never called back, and third almost burned down our house. My father... died while saving us from the burning house, and... I just don’t want to date anymore because who knows what might happen next.” Derek realizes too late that he’s doing it again: talking before thinking, saying things normal people don’t say, and that’s exactly why he keeps his mouth shut and hides in the reserve. 

He hasn’t talked about these things to anyone, not Mother, not Cora or Laura, and definitely not the psychiatrist they wanted him to see twice a week until they gave up in the face of his silence. He either blurts everything out or doesn’t talk at all.

Stiles just stares at him, his mouth slightly open.

“So yeah, that’s why we’re here.” Derek tries to salvage the situation, any broken part of it, because he cares what Stiles thinks of him.

“My mom died when I was thirteen,” Stiles says after a while, and the words are so soft they feel like a caress. “She lost her mind because of the illness. My dad… He started drinking. It was bad for a long while.” Stiles looks vulnerable and open, like he thinks Derek is worthy of those trust-filled words.

“I’m sorry,” Derek says, his heart in his throat. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands so he wraps them around his coffee mug, holding on, keeping still. 

“Yeah, sucks to be us.”

Derek lets out a quiet laugh, the words filling him with warmth. He feels less isolated and more like someone is hiding in the same blanket fortress with him. _The last time he built one, he was thirteen and Cora was six, and they got peanut butter all over the cushions._

“I’m glad you told me that.” Stiles leans forward, his coffee mug between his hands. “Do you want to talk about it more?”

Derek shakes his head, looking at Stiles. He likes the fact that Stiles asked, though, likes that he didn’t scare Stiles away. 

“Okay, but just know, I don’t mind. I can talk about anything.” Stiles tilts his head. “That’s kind of the problem.”

Derek laughs again, and this time, Stiles laughs with him. It’s such a weird, liberating feeling. 

“So,” Stiles finally says. “How was our first date? And when?”

Derek wants to say: _the time you ran over me_ , but doesn’t. Instead he mumbles, “We went swimming?”

Stiles beams. “That’s perfect. We weren’t even dating yet, just getting to know each other. And then I got a cramp, and you had to save me from drowning, and then suddenly, we were kissing. That’s perfect.”

“That was three weeks ago. We’ve been taking it slowly because of my past, and because you’re such a gentleman.”

Stiles laughs. “Okay, although, just for the record, I’m not really the patient type.” 

“It’ll be easier,” Derek says quietly. “That way, we don’t have to smell so much like each other.”

Stiles breathes in sharply, then nods. “Yeah, that sounds… logical. Good thinking.”

After that, they talk about all their favorite things, what they like to do on their free time, and who their closest friends are. It’s terribly easy, and once the “date” is over, Derek feels like he was crushed by an avalanche. Stiles is a storm, and Derek wants to just sit in the heart of it and marvel at its beauty. 

On the drive home, he thinks about their fake relationship and if he should tell Mother about it. Then again, she said she doesn’t care how he does it as long as he comes to the festival. 

Mother is sitting on the porch when Derek turns into the driveway. She has their pet cat in her lap, headphones on, and an iPad resting against her knee. 

She takes the headphones off when she notices him. “Hi, baby.”

Derek leans down to kiss her cheek. 

“How was the date?”

Derek jerks back, surprised. 

“Cora told me that you went to meet the Sheriff’s son. Are you taking him to the festival?” 

He’s going to strangle Cora. “Maybe.”

“That’s good. I’m glad. Just… be careful.”

Derek bites his cheek so he doesn’t say anything stupid. He doesn’t care about himself. He just doesn’t want his disastrous mistakes to spread like they usually do. He hopes Stiles isn’t a mistake. 

*

In the minivan on their way to the festival Stiles is eerily quiet, and Derek wonders if it’s nerves or if Stiles is having second thoughts. 

“We’ll work it out,” Derek whispers in his ear, and Stiles nods, but doesn’t say anything. 

The pack is comfortable around Stiles because Derek took him to visit them two days ago so it wouldn’t come as a shock to them that he was bringing someone. They didn’t lie to any of them, but they didn’t quite reveal the truth, either. Only Cora knows exactly what is going on. It makes Derek uncomfortable, but he doesn’t want his entire pack lying for him. 

He’s pretty sure Mother knows, though. 

Once they reach the festival area, Stiles is fidgeting, wiping his hands to his thighs, and biting his lips. Derek puts a hand on Stiles' shoulder and squeezes. That doesn’t have quite the effect Derek hoped for, and instead, Stiles becomes even more agitated. 

“Don’t be nervous,” Talia says softly to Stiles. “You’re with us, with pack.”

Derek tries an encouraging smile, but judging by the look Stiles and his mom give him, he looks like an axe murderer. Great. 

“Go with Stiles to the changing tent. The rest of us will put the camp together,” his mom says, and Derek nods, taking Stiles’ hand. 

“Come. You need different clothes for the weekend.”

Stiles follows him, and Derek revels in the feeling of Stiles’ fingers linked with his own. He feels warm and tingly, and he’s sure Cora would mock him about it mercilessly. 

They reach the tent where human companions change into their festival attire, and Derek guides Stiles in, pulling him closer. There are lots of strange wolves with their humans there, and it puts Derek’s teeth on edge. He growls at the wolf closest to Stiles, and the wolf takes a step back, showing that he’s not a threat. Derek lets out a yip, acknowledging the gesture, and all is well between them. 

The festival organizers are handing out wolf skins to the human companions, and Stiles goes to stand in line while Derek stays close by, making sure that nobody bothers Stiles.

Derek watches as Stiles takes off his shirt and lets people paint his arms, face, and chest full of red and white spirals before he gets his own wolf skin. Stiles smells of nervous energy and curiosity, and Derek wants to ground Stiles with his touch. The wolf in him wants to show Stiles that he’s worthy of his trust. 

When they walk out of the tent Stiles takes a step closer to Derek because they see a full blown wolf run past them. 

It’s a rare skill and only his mother in their pack knows how to turn into a wolf. She has said that he has it in him to do the same, but Derek is doubtful. He knows he doesn’t possess the kind of strength it requires. 

Stiles glances at him with those big brown eyes, all of his fear right there on his face. “Am I in danger?” he whispers, leaning closer, and Derek puts his arm around him, pulling him near. 

“Nobody will hurt you. My mom is one of the toughest Alphas here, and there’s not a wolf among us who dares to cross her.” Derek knows he sounds proud. He can’t help it. 

“And what about you?” 

“What about me?”

“Will they respect your claim on me?” 

Derek almost trips on his own feet, his face heating up. “They should. Everyone has their companion here. It would be disrespectful to turn their attention to someone else. The moon festival is all about the relationship between the wolf and its companion.”

“Are humans less welcome?” Stiles asks as they walk along a forest path toward their camp. 

“On the contrary. Packs can be too inbred. If we can find human companions… It’s better. It means we’re so appealing the truth doesn’t need to be kept hidden.” 

Stiles grins. “So I’m like royalty?” 

“Pretty much.”

“What’s with the wolf skin, though? Isn’t it macabre to you?”

They walk past another werewolf, and Derek keeps Stiles as far away from him as is possible on the narrow path. “It’s a part of the tradition. The wolves have died of old age, and the legend says that their spirits still linger and give strength to the human companions.”

“And they were just regular wolves, not...?”

“Naturally,” Derek says, frowning.

Stiles laughs. “Good. I can live with that. Some mumbo jumbo and old wolves. I’m not wearing your grand-grand-grandfather or anything.”

Stiles is a strange, strange human.

Once they reach the pack tent, Cora stops whatever she was doing with a needle and a leaf and says to Stiles, “Oh my god, you look so pretty.” She runs her fingers through the wolf skin fur that’s on Stiles’ head, then presses her hand against one of the swirls on Stiles’ stomach. 

Before Stiles can react in any way, Derek steps between them, growling at Cora, holding Stiles behind him as she tries to touch Stiles again. Just to tease Derek, he’s sure. “Come on, big brother. I’m allowed to touch. He’s pack.”

“Cora, leave your brother alone,” their mother says without even turning to look at them. 

Cora huffs, then sticks her tongue out because she’s apparently not twenty-one but two. Her boyfriend, Patrick looks at her with a stupidly fond expression, and that’s got to be love right there. Nothing else explains that acceptance.

When Cora finally steps away, Derek looks around, noticing that Stiles’ and his bags are next to a mattress for two. Of course. He hadn’t thought about sleeping at all. Stiles follows his gaze and purses his lips. “I like to be the little spoon.”

Derek covers his face with his hands. This was the worst idea ever. 

*

They go meet the elders after they’ve settled down because all the new couples must introduce themselves before they are allowed to take part in any of the activities.

Stiles surprises Derek by grabbing the crook of his arm and resting his chin on Derek’s shoulder. Stiles looks uncertain, mouthing: _Is this okay?_ and Derek just nods, thinking about Stiles’ scent mixing with his own. The more they touch, the better it’ll be. 

The elders are sitting around a fire in a semi-circle, and there’s a line of couples waiting to greet them. 

Stiles fidgets, his nerves making him sweat. 

“Don’t worry,” Derek whispers. “They know we’ve just met. It’s okay.”

There’s no time for Stiles to answer because they are guided in front of the elders. 

“Derek of the Hale pack and my partner, Stiles of the Stilinski family.” Derek bows, and Stiles follows his lead, Stiles’ heart doing a funny dance in his chest. 

The old woman looks at them long and hard, then says, “We haven’t seen you before even though your entire pack has been coming here every year. How did you two meet - just before your last possible moon festival?”

Stiles’ hold on Derek’s arm becomes almost unbearably strong, and it makes Derek smile as genuinely as he can under the stressful situation. He needs to hold it together because Stiles is here for him, and he won’t put Stiles through anything humiliating. 

“Pure luck. He ran over me with his car, and I just couldn’t forget his scent.” He sounds like he’s gone for Stiles, like it was love at first sight. 

The elders smile, a few of them laughing. “Oh, did he? And you had to explain to him why you didn’t need medical attention?”

Derek glances at Stiles, then looks back up. “Actually, his best friend is a werewolf.”

The old woman nods, then turns to look at Stiles. “So, why are you here?”

Derek curses the direct question, fearing the tick in Stiles’ heartbeat that’s going to reveal the lie. 

“Because I’m fascinated by werewolf culture and because I didn’t want Derek to miss out on an ancient tradition. I want him to experience it all even though this… thing between us is new. I hope you can forgive us for not knowing exactly what to do or how to behave.” Stiles bows again, and the old woman gives him a smile. 

“You’ll do fine,” she says. “Just follow his instincts and let him keep you safe.”

“I will,” Stiles says quietly, both of his arms now firmly around Derek’s. 

“And you,” she says directly to Derek, “don’t be afraid to experience things.”

Derek coughs, then says, “I won’t.” He has no idea what the woman means, but he guesses it has something to do with the wolf instincts. 

As they walk away, Stiles leans closer, his face against Derek’s neck. “I’m terrified,” he whisper-giggles, and Derek puts a hand on his neck, holding him there as long as he wants to stay. “I think she knows.” 

Derek nods. “She does, but she won’t out us if we play along.”

“How terrible would it be for your mother?”

“She would be accused of ridiculing traditions and would have to apologize formally.” Derek pauses, a shiver running up his spine. “Let’s not think about that.” He’s sure it won’t happen now that the Alpha of the Alphas has recognized and accepted them. At least he hopes that’s the case. They still need to act convincingly. 

“So what do we do next? What’s going to happen during the night?” Stiles is still hiding his face, maybe because he doesn’t want the other wolves to hear him. 

“I need to take my clothes off first.”

Stiles lets out a strangled sound. “What?”

Derek thinks about his own words for a second, then quickly explains, “I won’t be entirely naked. I’ll be wearing pants... of sorts.” 

Stiles pulls back, staring at him. “Loincloth?”

“No, just something that’s made of light leather.” Something that clings to his skin. Something that will make him look more like he belongs in the woods. 

They go back to their tent only to find it empty. Everyone has already gone out to mingle. 

Derek searches through his bag to find the pants he’s supposed to wear, and when he does Stiles looks at him in a funny way. 

“You’re seriously going to wear those?” Stiles sounds indignant like he’s personally offended by the piece of clothing. 

“It’s either this or nothing,” Derek says, pulling his shirt over his head. 

Stiles turns around, giving him privacy. “Hurry up then.”

The pants are quite similar to those worn by Native Americans, but they are a little more skin tight. The festival itself may originate in Europe, but the wolves here carry their history with them. 

“I’m ready,” Derek says once he’s buttoned his pants up. 

Stiles doesn’t say a word, just stares. 

“Do I look the part?”

“Werewolf in a mating camp?”

Derek bursts out laughing. “Oh my god, that’s what you think this is?”

Stiles crunches up his nose. “Isn’t it?”

“No, it’s a celebration of love and companionship, of having someone to stand by you. It has nothing to do with finding a mate or mating with someone. It’s about the joy of seeing and feeling someone and appreciating them for being there, however short that time together might be. It’s always special when we meet someone new.”

“Oh…” Stiles swallows the rest of the sentence, and Derek kind of resents him for that. He wants to hear what Stiles has to say. He wants to know everything. 

“What? Tell me?”

Stiles looks bashful under all that paint on his face. “I just thought that wolves mate for life, and this would be more about that.”

Derek smiles. “Most werewolves don’t mate at all. That’s our old way of life and requires absolute trust. In this quickly changing world, who can say they’d want to stay with that one person forever? Werewolves get divorced, too. The festival is about this.” Derek steps into Stiles’ personal space and puts his palm over Stiles’ heart. It speeds up, jumps fast in Stiles’ chest, his breaths equally quick and shallow. Stiles smells of fear and fascination and something else, something faintly familiar, and it makes Derek want to keep touching him. “It’s about us. Nothing else. And it’ll get a little intense because wolves are wild animals.”

“How wild?” Stiles’ voice gives in, but he holds Derek’s gaze. 

“I don’t know. I’ve only heard stories… mostly from Cora.” Derek takes a step back, but holds out his hand, waiting for Stiles to take it. “But with wild I mean physical. There’ll be a lot of activities, but you don’t have to take part in most of them. We compete to show our companions how worthy we are.”

Stiles wraps his hand around Derek’s and says, “So that leads to a lot of copulation tonight, huh?” 

Derek almost falls over because suddenly he has two left feet. “Well… Yes.”

Stiles beams, and Derek decides to ignore him for the moment to keep his sanity. 

They follow the path to the campfires and quickly find Derek’s family gathered around one of them. 

It’s still midday, and most of the packs have already started to form teams and prepare for the games. Derek takes Stiles to sit next to Patrick and Isaac’s girlfriend, Mira, who are both human and will be sitting out the games that involve a lot of wrestling. 

Without thinking, Derek kisses Stiles on the mouth and doesn’t pull back right away because he’s foolish. When he looks at Stiles afterwards, he’s stunned, but quickly hides it and pulls Derek back into a chaste kiss. 

He can feel it in his toes and when he finally goes to his mother, there has to be a stupid expression on his face because she gives him a onceover and says, “You belong here.” 

The games are brutal. It’s supposed to be some old version of soccer, but it’s more like war, and Derek is bloody and beaten after the first round. Stiles wipes him clean with a wet towel like the tradition says, and it’s too intimate for them both. Stiles’ hands are shaking, and he’s biting his lower lip, but he doesn’t stop, doesn’t shy away from the task given to him. Once he’s done, Stiles puts his hands on Derek’s shoulders and just stares at him. Another tradition, Derek guesses and wonders who has been talking to Stiles. 

When the drums call Derek back he takes Stiles’ hands and kisses his knuckles, his heart beating so fast it almost hurts. 

*

The night falls right before the games end, and Derek is ready to roll over and die. He sits next to Stiles around the campfire, his legs pretty much giving in. He hopes Stiles hasn’t been bored, that someone has kept him company during the long day Derek has been proving himself worthy. 

“What have you been up to?” Derek finally asks, bumping his shoulder against Stiles’. 

Stiles grins. “This is… Oh my god… You have no idea. I know everything… And I mean everything about everyone.” Stiles leans closer. “I had no idea wolves are such gossipers. See him,” Stiles discreetly points at a man with a graying beard. “He had an affair with the Alpha of the Grenville pack who also happens to be twenty years younger than him. They are both married. You were right about wolves. And her,” this time it’s a redheaded woman, “she had to kill her lover because he was a hunter in disguise.”

Derek pulls back, swallowing the bile in his throat, suddenly feeling utterly cold and wondering what everyone is saying about him. 

“What?” Stiles looks worried. 

“Nothing.” His skin feels tight and uncomfortable and he just wants to run into the woods. “Just that the ex who almost burned down our house was a hunter, too.” 

Stiles inhales sharply. “I’m so sorry.” 

“So what is everyone saying about me?” Derek looks at the fire, not wanting to see the uneasiness in Stiles’ eyes. 

Stiles is quiet for a second, then says very quietly, “That it’s good to see you here finally, and that they’ve been waiting for you.”

“And what are they saying about you?”

“That I need to prove my worth, too.” 

Now he turns to look at Stiles because he sounds unyielding. “Why?”

“Because you’re the heir of the Hale pack.”

Derek furrows his brows. “Laura is the next Alpha. Everyone knows that.”

“Apparently you have a fortune, and I might just be a gold digger.” 

Derek laughs. He can’t help it. That is the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard of. “They’ll quickly learn that you’re nothing like that. Besides, I don’t think anyone would take me even for my money.”

Stiles tilts his head, a strange look on his face. “Why’d you say that?”

Derek thought it was obvious. “I don’t live in this world. I don’t meet people. I don’t want anything. I stay away from anything that even remotely looks like human connection. It’s pretty hard for anyone to find their way into my life.”

“I managed, though.”

“Yeah, but this... you are different.”

Stiles looks like he wants to say so much more, but all he says is, “I guess so.”

That ends the conversation, but Derek feels like there’s some kind of a heavy stone hanging over their heads now, and he wants to know why it’s there. He doesn’t think he did something wrong, but for some reason, he feels like he did. 

The festivities fill the night air, drums and pipes creating dream-like atmosphere, and the smells of the food make Derek’s head spin. Everyone is laughing and dancing, and even though the moon festival is all about couples, it’s also all about having fun, and everyone is dancing with everyone. Stiles is in there too, his bare feet hitting the ground, his body relaxed, and even though he can’t do the steps right he still looks gorgeous, moving to the rhythm, his eyes closed. 

The leader of the elders comes to sit next to Derek at some point, holding a wooden mug full of liquid that probably contains a hefty amount of wolfsbane. She gives it to Derek, and then sits there quietly. 

Derek drinks and the liquid burns all the way down. He tries not to cough. 

“He’s interesting,” the old lady says, looking at Stiles who’s now dancing with a tiny dark haired woman. “There is so much weakness in him, yet, he’s maybe stronger than any of us. He could be an emissary, even without any powers.”

Derek doesn’t know what to say so he stays quiet, wondering if he’s supposed to drink more or give the mug back. 

“If you can hold onto him I suggest you do that. There’s something about him that speaks about great things, saving the world proportions of great things, and he seems to adapt so quickly. Look at him.”

Derek does. Stiles is grinning from ear to ear and there’s total abandonment in him, like he’s left behind everything that could pull him down, and he’s just enjoying life. He turns to look at Derek and the recognition on his face makes Derek _want_. 

“Go to him,” the old lady says, taking the mug from Derek’s hands, and he stands, walks up to Stiles slowly and then swoops him in his arms. Stiles laughs, and the laughter does something to Derek’s insides. He made Stiles laugh like that. He made Stiles happy. It makes him proud. 

He sets Stiles back on his feet, and they find the rhythm together, dancing among the warm bodies, feeling the heat of the fire, and Derek can’t take his eyes off of Stiles. This is what he wants. This something he can’t put into words. He doesn’t know what it is, but he feels it. 

Stiles’ hands are on his, and then suddenly, they are around his neck and Stiles’ naked chest is pressed against his own. He wraps his arms around Stiles, pulls him closer, and all he wants is to bite. He breathes deep, his nose in Stiles’ neck, and he can’t help it, can’t stop himself from opening his mouth and biting Stiles. He doesn’t break the skin, doesn’t ever want to hurt Stiles, but he can still taste him, and Stiles tastes like everything he’s ever wanted. Derek is shaking because he’s trying to remember who they are and what this is and how he’s not supposed to, but it feels too good and he just wants. 

Stiles goes lax in his arms, lets Derek hold his entire weight, and just sways with him. They are barely dancing, and Derek doesn’t know if it’s suitable for this to happen here, if he’s even allowed to show this much affection towards his companion. He doesn’t care. 

Derek pulls Stiles a fraction closer, his hands at the small of Stiles’ back, needing to go lower, but he’s holding himself back. Stiles lets out a tiny sound, then pants close to Derek’s ear, his fingers digging into Derek’s back muscles. 

“I want to… please… Let me.” Derek is whispering against Stiles’ skin, not thinking what he’s saying, just using words to show Stiles that he’s still human, that he can still ask and not just take.

“Yeah, take me somewhere. Please.” Stiles sounds breathless, worn out, and so needy it soothes the wolf inside Derek. All he has to do is lift Stiles up, and he has his legs around Derek, and Derek is walking away, following his instincts, looking for somewhere quiet, somewhere not here. 

Once they reach somewhere quiet enough, Derek puts Stiles on the ground and pushes him against a tree, his hands on Stiles’ pants the moment they don’t need to hold his weight. Stiles is right with him, pulling at the buttons of Derek’s pants, breathing so hard it’s the only sound Derek can hear. 

“Suck me off, please,” Stiles whispers, his cheeks red and his pupils blown, and that’s all Derek can think of when he falls on his knees, and nuzzles Stiles’ dick through the pants. They are nearly open, just a little more, and Derek can have all that perfect scent right there out in the open. 

Stiles is fully hard and so so warm that Derek just holds him for a moment, loving the feel of Stiles’ soft skin. “Gorgeous,” he whispers, pushing Stiles’ pants further down, and when he does, he also bites Stiles’ inner thigh, wanting to hear that little thrilled sound of pain. He wants so much his mind is starting to melt, his brain freezing. There’s nothing he wants more, has ever wanted more than Stiles in his mouth, inside him, filling him. 

He licks Stiles’ cock, then wraps his lips around it and goes as far as he can without choking. He does it again and again and again until Stiles is shaking on his feet, and whispering nonsense, still trying to be quiet even though Derek is sucking his brains out. 

It’s glorious when Stiles shoots down his throat, when he swallows, when Stiles sags against the tree unable to stand. 

Derek doesn’t wait for Stiles to recover, just pulls himself out and starts jacking off. He wants to see Stiles covered in his come, wants to spread his scent all over Stiles. He wants the entire camp to know that Stiles is his. He shoots on Stiles’ chest and stomach, breathing hard, touching his forehead against Stiles’. He thumbs the mess, spreads it around just like he imagined, and it’s better. He has the smells and the sounds and the feel of the night around them. The faint noise from the camp. Their uneven breaths. The way Stiles feels against him afterwards. He couldn’t imagine it all. 

“God. Please say you want to try this for real,” Stiles finally says, and it opens a wound in Derek’s heart. 

“You’d want to?”

“You’ve been nothing but perfect the whole time. I don’t know where you got the idea that you’re not appealing, but by god, you are. You drive me crazy. You should’ve seen yourself on that field today. You were incredible, and I just… I want to try this. We don’t have to get werewolf married or do any long term plans until you’re ready, but just, please have me.”

Derek pulls back slightly so he can see Stiles’ face, but he keeps his palms on Stiles’ stomach. “What if I want to get werewolf married one day?” He keeps the smile hidden, but somehow Stiles can see it in his eyes. 

“Then we’ll do it. Whatever you want. Whenever we’re ready.” Stiles looks beautiful in the moonlight. Someone Derek could keep forever. 

“I want to go skinny dipping. I want all the dates we talked about.” Derek bites Stiles’ nose gently. “I want to meet your best friend and your dad. I want to get to know you.” He wants it all. Stiles smells familiar, like pack and family, someone who belongs to him. He wants to be good enough to deserve this. “If you let me.”

Stiles attacks Derek with his mouth, kissing him deeply, pulling hurt noises out of him, and when it’s over, he’s a little dizzy. 

“I’m not good with these things,” Derek says quietly, because Stiles needs to know what he’s getting into. “I haven’t had good experiences so I might not know what to do or how to be or what I should give you. But I know one thing: you’re not here to hurt me or my family.”

Stiles stares at Derek for a moment, then pulls him into a fierce hug. “I’m not. I’m not. And I think you’re awesome just the way you are. Your dry sense of humor and your willingness to explain everything and your respect and love for people who deserve it… You’re incredible. I don’t need you to be anything more. You can be a total recluse, and I don’t care as long as you let me be a recluse with you.”

Derek smiles against Stiles’ neck, breathes in the love he feels and happily keeps holding onto Stiles.


End file.
